Scouting Indy

Traveling + Christmas + prep for same + intermittent Internet access has made for a lack of blogging. It's pretty much all over now but the return trip.

My mom moved to Indianapolis a few days ago, and I'm visiting her now. We were headed to an appointment when the news of James Dungy's passing hit local radio. While I was killing time in the waiting room, the local TV news played an old public service ad, featuring a younger James Dungy. If I recall correctly, it reminded viewers to spend more time with their families. It was incredibly poignant.

My mom hoped it wasn't "drugs," meaning a drug-related murder or otherwise related to the use of illegal drugs. I had a different suspicion, but lacking any evidence, I decided to keep it to myself.

However, James Dungy's October overdose and depression have been reported elsewhere; so has his troubled state of mind. (Those wishing to see the MySpace page attributed to James Dungy can view a screen shot here.)

Why did I suspect a mental health problem? Because ordinary 18-year-olds aren't no longer breathing after no apparent exercise when someone comes back after taking a walk. Peter King hopes that "[i]f the death of James Dungy does one thing, I hope it sets off an alarm in the heads of the 540 or so NFL coaches, particularly the other 31 head coaches."

I hope the alarm says: "Hey, most of you have families at home. Go home.
Don't look at that end sweep for next week's foe the 36th time; you've already
seen it 35 times. Go home. Be a person.'' I bet that's what Tony Dungy would
want you to do.

Mike Sando put together another column on football and family, one that gives the warning signs of suicide. Tara Beimer Shaw also has some good comments on Dungy's suicide and depression in general. I too hope that people will seize this opportunity to become more informed about mental illness, that there is a tremendous stigma surrounding it, and how the system that is supposed to ensure that people can get help for mental illness is sometimes woefully inadequate.
I've watched people try to get help for depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety, all kinds of things. And unless you have someone to help you, it can be very daunting and difficult. When you're already stressed by a mental illness, it can be very difficult to make dozens of phone calls, trying to find out who your insurance company will pay for you to see. (That's if you're lucky enough to have insurance.) Whether or not you have insurance, most psychologists and psychiatrists have a waiting period of several weeks. (Yes, I mean in America.) You may be so depressed that you can't make yourself walk out the door and go to work or class, or wash your hair or brush your teeth, but if you're not depressed enough to be a danger to yourself or someone else, you can wait a few weeks, right?

James Dungy was presumably 18 when he was involuntarily admitted in October. He was eventually released, so I suspect there was no legal obligation to notify his parents. (If he had been a minor, or involuntarily committed, it might have been a different story.) He might have been given contact information for outpatient treatment when he was discharged, but there was no one to make sure that he actually sought help. And for whatever reason, it seems he didn't tell his parents he was having problems.

Rigoberto Alpizar had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. When he claimed to have a bomb as he was disembarking from a plane, he was shot by undercover air marshals. Ironically, his wife works in an administrative capacity for a mental health advocacy group. Ms. Buecher was probably more informed about mental illness than the average person. If she was unable to prevent her husband's tragic death, how could James Dungy's family — who, I suspect, weren't aware of any mental health problems he might have had — be expected to prevent his? My heart goes out to them, because the death of a child is the worst thing that can happen to a parent.

Healthy Place has a good set of pages on helping someone who is depressed. Searching for "help someone with depression" will bring up a list of similar pages.

Mental illness is frequently a source of shame for those who have been diagnosed with it. Until you've heard someone saying that they don't deserve to exist because of a mental illness, or been on the verge of having someone involuntarily committed, this can be hard to appreciate. (Do yourself a favor, and don't be the person who tells someone to "stop being depressed," as if depression could be controlled by the mental equivalent flipping a light-switch. I'm most familiar with depression, but this applies equally to all things that are considered mental illnesses.)